


Days of Valor

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Feudal AU, Gen, KinKuniKage Week, The boys go off to war
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-15
Updated: 2017-08-15
Packaged: 2018-12-15 14:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11807757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: When the Grand King Oikawa returns to the village of Kitagawa to bolster the ranks of his troops, a family that has already sacrificed so much to their sovereign's failing campaigns must give to king and country once again.Three brothers take a journey of war and strife, but who will they be when they come out the other side?





	Days of Valor

**Author's Note:**

> This is loosely similar to Final Haikyuu Quest, but the canon of that AU didn't fit with my story idea, so it's more of a feudal AU instead. This idea was inspired by brainstorming with my good friend @hanatsuki89 on Tumblr. I hope you enjoy it, and thanks in advance for reading!

Yuutarou hums a mindless tune as he drives his garden hoe into the soil time and time again, scoring another long line of tilled earth to join the dozen others he and his brothers have turned. Farther down the field, Akira swipes sweat from his brow with the back of his sleeve and gives a soft sigh before digging on. Tobio, the youngest, follows along the furrows with a bag of seed and drops them in perfect increments and kicks the dirt back over. Over and over, the rhythm repeats. 

Exhausted, they break for a short repast. Akira is the first to the covered basket sitting beneath a nearby tree, drawing howl of annoyance from Yuutarou as he drops to the grass and bites right into their only loaf of bread. “Hey, we all have to eat that!”

Akira rips off a chunk and hands it to Tobio, who is unmindful of the pre-existing teeth marks as he plops down next to them. “Don’t care,” Tobio grumbles between bites, eliciting a nose wrinkle from Yuutarou and a smirk from Akira.

Yuutarou snatches the basket and divvies up the meal before anything else unhygienic happens to his food, and they finish their repast in companionable silence.

Their respite having lingered longer than it probably should have, Yuutarou tidies up the empty dishes while Tobio and Akira begin anew at sowing their crop of beans. However, they all stop and look when they hear hoofbeats in the distance. Yuutarou smiles when he sees his old friend Shigeru waving atop his horse. “News from the village!” Shigeru cries, pulling a scroll from his jacket to show the boys. 

As the horse trots to a stop near the boys, Shigeru dismounts and unrolls the missive. “The king is here! In our village!”

At the mention of the distant monarch, Tobio drops his hoe and turns his attention on Shigeru. “He’s here? Now?”

Shigeru nods, and Yuutarou frowns. They’ve only seen the Grand King Oikawa Tooru once in their lives, and that was three years ago when he had stopped in the village to conscript the first batch of able-bodied men into his ranks. Their father had been among the numbers headed off to war against Ushijima, the ruler of all Miyagi, who never came back. 

Their mother, Kiyoko, struggles to keep up with the farm, even with the boys’ help, and as Yuutarou brushes his fingers over the invisible knot in his stomach at the thought, he shivers and shakes his head to dispel such thoughts

After all, it can be much worse.

Shigeru rides off for the next house, and the boys quickly pack up their equipment and head back for the house to pick up their mother for the trip into the village. Oikawa’s arrival is nearly always accompanied by a speech or declaration, either of which are mandatory attendance — perhaps not by law, but certainly by their king’s fierce need for his people’s attention.

Two hours later, they reach the nearby village, joining the growing flock of their neighbors who are milling around at the crossroads in wait of the king. Yuutarou helps Kiyoko down from their only horse, but even as she gives him a nod of thanks, her face is ashen and cold. Throughout the crowd, there are many stony expressions from mothers and wives and sisters and daughters who know what the king is there to collect. Even the children of the group are unnaturally silent.

Everyone mills around, the air tense as they wait for their king’s address, until a young man bearing Oikawa’s crest emerges from a tent and raises his fist. 

Immediately, everybody falls silent as they watch the entourage emerge. First are armored guards with spears in hand, with swords and daggers strapped to their hips, and then the man himself sweeps through the tent flaps with his chin high and arms crossed. He’s covered from head to toe in the richest silks and jewelry polished to a glow, but nothing radiated quite so strongly as hard glimmer in Oikawa’s hooded gaze.

Yuutarou gasps, even as he falls to his knees and bows along with everyone else. Kiyoko lightly elbows him and he shrinks a bit closer to the dirt in front of his face. His unintentional disrespect, however, goes unnoticed by the king, who paces in front of the group slowly as if in thought until he stops and says, “Rise.”

Instantly, an entire village scrambles to its feet and hangs on every word from a man they may never see again.

“Good people of Kitagawa, Oikawa-san begs your indulgence for this one day to make but one humble request.” He pauses just long enough for a soft breeze to catch the hem of his kimono and make it ripple elegantly over his finely tooled zori shoes, giving him an almost ethereal glow against the harsh summer sun. 

“When I last toured this village, men of valor followed me and served me with courage and distinction.” The crowd has fallen completely silent as Yuutarou’s hand lurches out to find his mother’s, giving it a tight squeeze despite his entire body quaking.

Kiyoko turns her head just enough to send him a hint of a smile through watering eyes. “It’s all right, Yuu,” she whispers.

Once more pacing dramatically, Oikawa continues. “I thank you and yours for your dignity and your sacrifices, and for that, you have my gratitude.” He snaps his fingers, and a burly man rushes to his side with a bulging burlap sack. Holding it above his head, Oikawa explains, “In this purse is a stipend from my own coffers for every family who answered my call the last time I was here. The rest of it —” He reaches in and takes a fistful of gold coins, letting them sprinkle in a shimmering stream back into the bag. “— will be for the families who can do so once again.”

This time, it’s Kiyoko who squeezes Yuutarou’s hand until it turns white. “Say nothing,” she utters before casting a pointed look to Akira, who nods in understanding.

Long, turgid minutes pass without a single volunteer, and like a mask, Oikawa’s good cheer drops away. “Come, good people, have you no room in your hearts for patriotism?” He makes a sweeping gesture toward the ramshackle buildings clustered around the road. “Have you all of this but no will to defend it? Can you bear no witness to the brave men who stood where you stood such a short time ago, ready to serve their king with the highest of honor?”

The entreat falling unanswered like so much dust, Oikawa’s nose wrinkles in disgust. “Very well, then. I shall choose for you.” He drags a finger across the expanse of the stricken crowd until his attention rests on Shigeru. “You, then, lad? Are you ready to serve me with your last breath.”

Shigeru’s gait is uneven as he stumps toward Oikawa, his wooden leg whittled by the boys’ father years ago after a terrible accident all but dragging in the dirt behind him. His shoulders droop along with his head, and looks of pity smear across nearly all the villagers’ faces.

Every head in the crowd jerks in surprise when Yuutarou’s voice rings out, “Take me instead!”

Kiyoko’s eyes bulge and her chin wobbles, but Yuutarou shakes his head and murmurs, “I’ll be all right, kaa-chan.” He gulps, tears already dribbling down his cheeks as he relinquishes his grip on her hand. “I’ll be all right.”

Oikawa smirks as he rakes his gaze up and down Yuutarou’s substantial stature. “A fine specimen, indeed. And your courage marks you with nearly as much distinction as another from this very village. Might you be one of his sons?”

Shaking under Oikawa’s intense gaze, Yuutarou nods and bows low to the king as Shigeru retreats back to his elderly grandfather’s side. 

“Excellent.” He scans the gathering again, and his sights rest on Akira and Tobio, drawing an even wider smile. “You come from fine stock, boy. Your country needs men like you if it is to succeed against the rule of egotistical tyrants like the Mad Cow King.”

Yuutarou bows even lower, hiding his scrunched face from the mass of onlookers. “Yes, sire,” he chokes out.

A rough hand claps Yuutarou on the shoulder, and he gasps when he sees it is Oikawa’s. “Your commitment to duty has moved my heart.” He crooks his finger toward Tobio and Akira, who approach the king as the crowd parts for them. “With three strong men like you rather than frail old men, I feel that this village will give me all I require.”

Oikawa pinches the bottom of the sack of gold and flings the contents into the herd of villagers, his lip curling as he watches them scrabble for the coins. He drops the bag into Yuutarou’s hand, a spare few pieces lingering in the bottom of it. “For your mother, boy.”

Without another word, Oikawa spins on his heel and glides back into his tent, leaving one torn family and one grateful family in his wake.

Shigeru falls to the dirt in front of Yuutarou and sobs. “I’m sorry! It should’ve been me! I should’ve —”

Yuutarou hauls Shigeru to his feet and crushes him in a bracing hug. “Take care of her until I get back.” Even as he gags on the words, they come out clear and unmistakable. 

“I will.”

The journey back to the farm is silent, with Kiyoko rigid on the saddle despite the tears coursing down her face. None of the boys speak, even as they shepherd their meager belongings into packs. It isn’t until they’re all in front of the house they may never see again that Tobio hisses, “No goodbyes.”

The last words their father had spoken to them lingers, but Kiyoko nods and gives her son a wobbly smile. “No goodbyes.”

With a kiss on the cheek and every scrap of spare food in the house, they’re sent back to the village to offer themselves up to the Grand King Oikawa and to bid farewell to the last of their childhoods.


End file.
